


The Outsider

by LadyRazorsharp



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: ALL THE FREAKING FEELS, F/M, International Rescue, Sex in Space, Spoilers for Season 3, Thunderbird Five - Freeform, deep space exploration, get the kleenex now, no seriously, rescuing Jeff Tracy, the long reach
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:08:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22838353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyRazorsharp/pseuds/LadyRazorsharp
Summary: When the Tracys discover Jeff's message from deep space, they are consumed with plans to mount a rescue...leaving people they love behind. In the midst of uncertainty and hope, John and Ridley cling to one another while trying to figure out how to say goodbye.
Relationships: Captain Ridley O'Bannon/John Tracy, Colonel Casey/Jeff Tracy, Penelope Creighton-Ward/Gordon Tracy, Tanusha "Kayo" Kyrano/Virgil Tracy
Comments: 5
Kudos: 21





	The Outsider

**_AN: So of course I couldn’t let things play out without hearing from one Ridley O’Bannon…_ **

  
  


**The Outsider**

_Sometimes, all you can do is hope._

  
  


For months, Ridley had sensed something was up amongst the Tracy clan. 

Whatever it was, it was big with a capital B. She had the sickening feeling that this Big Something had the power to take John from her, but oh, she didn’t want to give him up. _Not yet,_ she told the universe, in a tone that brooked no argument. _Not yet_.

John knew it too; she’d seen it in the depths of his sea-glass eyes, had heard him mutter it in half-spoken phrases as he slept beside her. Still, Ridley decided that she wouldn’t press him. If it was that important, she mused, he would tell her when he was ready.

Then one day she’d stepped aboard the station for their weekly get-together (it was so much more than just a squash game, now) and he was waiting for her. She saw it even before he opened his mouth: The Big Something was here, and now he could share it with her. He grabbed her hands and held them tight, fingers lacing with her own. 

_“Ridley, my father’s alive.”_

Every astronaut who had come through Canaveral in the last thirty years knew the name of Jeff Tracy. Hell, every astronaut who’d submitted to the centrifuge and the Vomit Comet and deep water egress training wanted to _be_ Jeff Tracy. When he was lost under mysterious circumstances, the wild mass guessing had run the gamut. Everyone from serious researchers to late night talk radio crackpots had a theory of What Happened to Jeff Tracy: It was a tragic case of pilot error; he had been the victim of sabotage or kidnapping; he had been tapped for black ops and been whisked away to Area 51. No one, she realized later, had given any thought to how any of those ideas would have hurt the family he left behind.

Ridley tarred herself with that same brush, because she too had watched the documentaries and read the lurid headlines, and wondered what exactly _had_ happened to one of the most daring explorers of his age. However, after she’d met his sons and been saved twice by the system Jeff had put into place, she no longer let herself be entertained by half-baked notions. She watched the men he had raised, saw how they operated, learned how they loved each other...and mourned his absence with them.

For John, the most pragmatic of Jeff’s sons, to speak these four words--well, for a moment, it was as if John was telling her he’d sighted a unicorn. Then she looked at him, really looked at him, and suddenly she _knew._ She knew with everything in her that _yes_ , the man who had been mourned once by the world, the man whose empty coffin lay beneath an impressive monument at Arlington, a man who had streets and schools and scholarships named for him- _-yes, he was alive._

“Oh God, John," she gasped. “Are you sure?” 

He nodded, every line of his frame screaming his need to fly away. “We found a coded message,” he blurted. “We thought his ship exploded, but it really launched him into deep space.”

“What do you mean? How deep?” Unbidden scenarios tumbled into her brain of the worst of what space exploration had to dish out: starvation, illness, suffocation, cosmic radiation, sheer raving insanity from living without hope or stimulation. It was why every astronaut still carried a cyanide pill on them at all times, to hold the last ace against an unforgiving universe. With effort, she shoved the horrors aside and focused on John. “Where is he?”

John tugged her into the commsphere. With a wave of his hand, he changed the display to a highly detailed set of calculations and charts. Her eyes told her the answer, even if her brain rejected it outright, but he was already pointing to the outermost reaches of the chart. “We’re working out the finer details, but the signal originated from here.” He tapped an area well outside the reach of manned flight, and her heart sank.

“The Oort Cloud?” She asked, trying and failing to keep the note of incredulity out of her voice. John didn’t seem to hear it, though, and over the course of nearly an hour regaled her with the tale of how they’d found Jeff’s hidden message embedded within the robot from the _Calypso._

“Gordon...we almost lost him when he went to retrieve Braman,” John said softly, turning back to her and reaching for her hands again. He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. “That’s where I was all those weeks. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you.”

EOS had commed her three weeks in a row before the weekly squash date, crisply informing her that John was away and he would have to reschedule their meeting. When Ridley had finally seen John again, she’d taken one look at the dark circles under his eyes and abandoned the squash game to just sit quietly with him in the galley, cups of untasted coffee sitting on the table between the rectangle of their joined hands. That was the first time she’d felt the Big Something looming on the horizon. By the way he’d silently led her to his quarters, there to make long, slow love to her that had left them both in tears, she knew he’d felt it too.

That visit had been six months ago, and although the dark circles had long since faded, now he was animated, almost in a _frenzy,_ and it worried her. “I understand,” she said, bringing his hands up to kiss his gloved knuckles. “They needed you. I’m so glad to hear Gordon’s all right.” She lowered her gaze to their hands. “Is he going with you?”

John blinked; for all his blinding intelligence, he could be remarkably obtuse. “Going--?”

“To rescue your father,” she said, unable to keep the tears out of her voice. She cleared her throat, but they refused to budge. “Are you _all_ going? Because if not, _I’m_ coming with you.”

 _“Ridley,”_ he breathed. “You’d _do_ that?”

“John Glenn Tracy, there’s a lot I’d do for you, if you’d just ask,” she replied, tears falling in earnest. “My Number One, Sam, is always reminding me that I’m a woman as well as an astronaut. So that’s what I am right now--a woman.” She reached up to stroke his cheekbone, heart aching as his eyes fluttered shut and he turned to kiss her gloved palm. “A woman who loves you very, very much.”

Now it was his turn to look at her with eyes full of tears, and she saw him swallow before he trusted himself to speak. “I know,” he murmured. “I have...so much to say to you about that.” He closed his eyes. “My brothers would tell me I’m taking the coward’s way out, but--I wouldn’t want to tie you to false hope if the worst happens.” He opened his eyes and gave her a sad smile. “Would you mind if I waited until I came back to say it?” 

_“Yes,”_ she retorted. “Yes, I _would_ mind.” She reached up to take his face between her hands. “You are _not_ leaving this planet, this life, hell, this _station_ with something left unsaid between us. Sorry, spaceman, but you’re gonna have to go with throttle up for this one.”

To her surprise, John didn’t immediately order her off of his Thunderbird; instead, he blew out a breath and looked down into her face. “I know I’m not the easiest person to love, Ridley. I never imagined myself as part of a couple at all. It’s one of the reasons I chose to serve in space; being a loner suits me.” He smiled. “Then I met you, and you let me be myself even as you encouraged me to grow.” He kissed her forehead. “I’ll always be grateful for that.”

She smirked up at him even as he wiped her tears away. “So what are you trying to say, hot shot?”

John tipped forward for another kiss, only this time, his lips brushed hers. “I’m saying that I love you, Ridley Kathleen O’Bannon.” He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. “No matter what happens, I’ll love you for the rest of my life.”

Ridley bit her lip to keep from sobbing. “I love you too, John.” She pulled back to watch him palm away his own tears. “Now, I want you to start over at the beginning and tell me _everything._ ”

And so he did, from retelling the first inkling of his father’s status, all the way up to the proposed flight plan toward his last known coordinates. Ridley listened to everything with the professionalism her job afforded her, putting her womanhood aside for a while and letting her astronaut self rise to their brilliant, crazy plan. Then, when he was all done, _she_ was the one who led the way into his quarters.

Now it was T-minus forty-eight hours, and once more she lay against him, sweaty and spent and thrumming with the fading echoes of their shared passion. “I’m gonna miss you, Ree,” he whispered against her skin. “I wish you were coming with us.”

“So do I,” she murmured back, kissing his cheek and tasting salt. “Any room for a stowaway?”

“Unfortunately, no. Brains has engineered everything so tight, even a flea would complain at the cramped quarters.” He smiled down at her. “Think good thoughts for us, will you?”

“Are you kidding? I’m having every Mass at my home parish said for you. I’ll end up making so many donations, they’ll have enough to fund a basilica.” Ridley smiled back. “Seriously, I have, and I will.” She hugged him tight. “I am _so_ proud of you.”

“Thank you.” John pulled back and gazed down at her once more, his beautiful eyes full of pain. “I don’t know what to say to you, Ree. I talk to people every day. I have a word for everyone, but this...escapes me.”

She smoothed his lips with the pad of her thumb, memorizing the texture of his skin, the curve of his lower lip and the precise bow of the top. “Why?”

He shrugged and drew in a deep breath. “I want to say something without the finality of _goodbye_ but isn’t simply _see you later_ . I want to say _remember me_ without it coming across as _enshrine me.”_ He shook his head. “No matter what I think of to say, I feel like I’m writing my own eulogy and leaving you to deliver it.”

Ridley ran her fingers through his flick, settling it gently over his right eye. “You’re _not_ writing your own eulogy, because maybe-- _just maybe_ \--you’ll get to come back.” She snorted. “Besides, there’d be plenty of people who would jump at the chance to write your eulogy. Let _them_ worry about it.” 

“Just so long as it’s not Langstrom Fischler,” he quipped. “Please promise me you’ll do everything short of committing murder to ensure that doesn’t happen.”

She laughed, both at the notion of Fischler having anything good to say about the Tracys, as well as his dark humor. “It’s a promise--but just do me a favor and come back, okay?”

He shook his head. “But I don’t _know--”_

She cut him off with a finger against his lips. “Then _lie to me,_ John. Just this once.” She felt her own lips tremble. “Lie to me and tell me you’ll come back.”

“I can’t.” He kissed her, eyes squeezing shut too late to keep the tears in. “Just don’t forget me, Ridley.”

She held him close, answering his kiss with her own in a wordless plea for him to make love to her one last time. Just as wordlessly, he obliged her, their kisses and touches ever more desperate until wave after wave of sweet agony claimed them both.

  
  


There were _so many_ lasts in those fleeting hours before the clock wound down.

The last cup of coffee.

The last touch of his hand.

The last glance from those turquoise eyes.

The last sound of her name in his mouth.

The last kiss. 

They stood at the airlock, wrapped around each other and clinging for dear life, until at length he raised his head. “It’s time,” he said, and she nodded. 

“On three,” she replied, still holding his hands. “One. Two.”

“Three.” 

They each took one step backwards, and the door irised shut between them. _Don’t look back,_ she told herself, putting on her helmet. She turned on her heel and took a step toward the outer door. _Don’t--_

She turned around. He was still on the other side of the door, one hand raised in farewell.

Numb, she checked her O2 sensor, then engaged the door and stepped into the shuttle.

  
  


The next time she looked up, Thunderbird Five was gone.

She knew it would be; he’d told her in detail how its very frame would be slotted into the crazy genius hotchpotch that would ferry them beyond the beyond, carrying its prissy and precocious electronic minder with them. Now the scan read only empty space where the station had been, its coordinates no more remarkable than any other patch of universe nearby.

 _Just don’t forget me,_ he’d begged.

Ridley pressed her hand against the Plexiglass of the observation deck window; except this time, there was no Thunderbird Five to rest between the V of her fore and middle fingers. 

_Oh God,_ she thought. _As if I ever could forget you?_

And so it was that _Captain Ridley O’Bannon the astronaut_ went on, busy with the business of minding her own patch of universe. It wasn’t until after a briefing with Colonel Casey that _Ridley O’Bannon the woman_ made her complaints known.

“Captain, may I talk with you for a moment?”

Sam shot Ridley a concerned glance, but she waved him off, and he closed the door to the small meeting room behind him as she turned back to her immediate supervisor. “What can I do for you, Colonel?”

“Have you had any communication from the Tracys?” Val asked gently, and with a shock, Ridley remembered that she was their godmother. No doubt she was hungry for news as well, and Ridley’s calm detachment finally broke.

“No,” she replied. “I didn’t expect any, to tell you the truth.” She gave her a mirthless smile. “I don't know if that’s easier or not.”

One look at the colonel's face told Ridley that she knew all of those _lasts_ that had passed between her and John. For the first time, she wondered if Val had had some of those _lasts_ with one daring ex-astronaut father of five, the day before he disappeared. “Just thought I’d ask. I checked in with Mrs. Tracy the other day, and I spoke with Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward this morning.” Her smile was sad. “Loving--and being loved--by a Tracy is not for the faint of heart.”

Ridley blinked. She’d heard John speak of Lady Penelope in tandem with his brother Gordon from time to time, but she’d never met the petite aristocrat. Now, she realized, if John kept his promise, they might one day be family. “Amen to that,” she replied, feeling a bit dazed.

Val Casey’s smile said it all.

  
  
If that conversation had been a surprise, the call that Sam intercepted a few days later was definitely unexpected. “It’s for you, Cap, but you’re not gonna believe who it is,” he said, and her heart took an express elevator into her throat. 

“Who is it?” she asked. John’s voice was in her inner ear, sounding as if it was marred by static. _Don’t forget don’t forget don’t for--_

“Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward.” Sam’s fingers hovered over the button. “Are you temporarily indisposed, or--?”

She was already moving toward the door. “I’ll take it in my quarters.”

“Captain O’Bannon.” The holographic form of Lady Penelope was smaller and blonder than she’d recalled from the society photos, but the sharp intelligence in those Caribbean blue irises pinned Ridley in an instant. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“We astronauts have a superstition against saying ‘it’s quiet,’ but I don’t have anything pressing at the moment.” She fixed Penelope with a bright, unconcerned smile that she didn’t feel. “What may I do for you?”

“Colonel Casey asked me to call you,” Penelope began, her hands smoothing the fur of a small Pug curled on her lap. “It seems we have a certain family in common.”

“So I’m to understand.” Ridley’s voice stuck in her throat and she swallowed to clear it. “You haven’t heard anything from them, have you?”

“Not a word,” Penelope confirmed sadly, her eyes on her sleeping pet. “You?”

“Nothing, I’m sorry to say.”

Penelope gave a little sigh and her spine went straight. “Captain, the reason I called is to ask if you would be my guest next week-end? Mrs. Tracy and Ms. Kyrano will be my guests as well, and Colonel Casey may stop by, if she’s able.” She didn’t smile, exactly, but her expression definitely fit everything Ridley had ever heard about the English nobility’s ‘stiff upper lip.’ “I promise that we won’t let ourselves become too maudlin.”

Since he’d left, Ridley hadn’t spoken John’s name aloud to anyone, save during her daily recitation of the Rosary. To freely talk about him and his brothers with a sympathetic set of ears would do much to loosen the tight knot in her stomach. “Thank you, Your Ladyship. I’d be honored.”

Penelope brightened, making Ridley wonder if it was the first true smile the blonde had mustered for weeks. “Splendid. If you could manage transport to Cape Canaveral, I will handle it from there.”


End file.
